The balcony of my apartment overlooks a parking lot; a prime spot to sit and watch people come and go.

As a result, I have two valuable insights: 1) very few people can park cars with any skill, and 2) you can learn a lot about someone by watching them clean snow from their vehicle.

Recently, one very late night, I sat on my balcony smoking a cigarette (I know, I know). It had snowed all day, followed by freezing rain in the early morning. Cars, trees, roads, and all other things exposed were lacquered with a crusty layer of ice.

Below, two teenagers revealed themselves as winter-driving amateurs.

“Your dad is going to kill us if he finds out we drove in this,” said one. Emerging from the car, his friend was followed by a loud blast of Creed from the stereo. “We’re screwed either way,” he replied. An intuitive observation given their musical tastes.

They initially worked diligently scraping the front window without a snow brush, I thought. They stopped after several seconds, though, resulting in two small peepholes on either side. The rest of the car remained covered in ice. They both disappeared into the car, gloriously ending Scott Stapp’s audible torture.

Knowing nothing good could come from this, I stood up and moved closer to the balcony rail. Not to warn them, but to get a better view of the assured hilarity about to unfold.

The reverse movement out of the parking space was quite impressive. Very decent speed, good front wheel movement, minimal wheel spin. Directly into a concrete barrier.

I laughed out loud, and stepped inside to my warm apartment.